He pauses, gathering himself.
“But you deserve the words too. So here they are.” His gray eyes hold mine. “I promise to show up. Every day. In every small way. Until you believe you’re home. Until you stop waiting for me to leave. Until you know—really know—that you’re not alone anymore.”
My vision blurs.
“I promise to protect you, but not to smother you. To support you, but not to control you. To love you exactly as you are, not as some version I think you should be.”
His voice drops, rough and tender.
“I promise to be your home, Delaney. For as long as you’ll have me.”
I’m crying. I don’t care.
Miss Maggie looks at me. “Your turn, sugar.”
I take a shaky breath. I had vows prepared. Practiced them in the mirror. But looking at Daniel now, all those careful words dissolve.
“I spent ten years being strong,” I say. “Being the one who held everything together. I didn’t know how to let anyone help. I didn’t know how to need someone without feeling like I was failing.”
His hands squeeze mine.
“You taught me that needing someone isn’t a weakness. That letting someone carry what I can’t hold alone isn’t giving up—it’s growing up.”
I swallow hard.
“I promise to stay. To trust you with my broken parts. To let you in, even when it scares me. To be your partner, not just your project.”
A wet laugh escapes me.
“I promise to keep arguing with you about your filing system. To steal your shirts. To ride your horse even when it terrifies me.”
Daniel’s smile is blinding.
“I promise to be your home too, Daniel. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Miss Maggie produces the rings. His great-grandmother’s ring for me. A simple gold band for him. Daniel’s hands are steady as he slides mine onto my finger. Mine shake as I do the same for him.
“By the power vested in me by the internet and the state of Montana,” Miss Maggie announces, “I now pronounce youhusband and wife.” She grins. “Kiss your bride, Daniel. Make it good.”
He cups my face in his hands. His thumbs brush away my tears.
“Mrs. Sutton,” he murmurs.
“That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“We’ve got time.”
Then he kisses me.
Not a polite wedding kiss. Not a quick peck for the audience. He kisses me like we’re alone, like there aren’t fifty people watching, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
I kiss him back the same way.
Somewhere, someone whoops. Definitely Tom.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, Miss Maggie is dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Well,” she says. “That was worth the twenty dollars.”
